


The Wrong Jedi

by antheiasilva



Series: Canon Compliant One Shots [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Violence, Codependency, Denial, Emotional Baggage, Episode: s05e20 The Wrong Jedi, Gen, Grief, Guilt, Human Disaster Anakin Skywalker, Master & Padawan Relationship(s), Missing Scene, Obi-Wan Kenobi Needs a Hug, Regret, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) Spoilers, ahsoka deserved better, darth vader theme playing in the background, jedi order is messed up about emotions, self blame
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-27
Updated: 2019-11-27
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:14:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,940
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21587449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/antheiasilva/pseuds/antheiasilva
Summary: After Ahsoka leaves the Order, Obi-Wan and Anakin clash.Missing scene after Clone Wars, Season 5, episode 20, "The Wrong Jedi"--Qui-Gon’s voice in Obi-Wan's head says, “You should have known better. Didn’t you learn anything from watching me?”And oh, but isn’t Anakin thinking the same thing?
Relationships: Obi-Wan Kenobi & Ahsoka Tano, Obi-Wan Kenobi & Anakin Skywalker, Qui-Gon Jinn & Obi-Wan Kenobi
Series: Canon Compliant One Shots [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1555864
Comments: 46
Kudos: 410





	The Wrong Jedi

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to Tohje for reading an early version of this and for her encouragement!
> 
> Many thanks to outpastthemoat for her sharp eyes and contagious enthusiasm!

“A man that flies from his fear may find that he has only taken a short cut to meet it.”  
― J.R.R. Tolkien, The Children of Húrin

\--

Obi-Wan watches Ahsoka walk away. And feels … nothing.

He has thoughts- oh, plenty of thoughts- about the Council, about the Chancellor, about cowardice. But he can't _feel_ anything. 

Which is just as well, because Anakin is feeling enough for the both of them and he knows his padawan will need him now. It is so much easier to focus on Anakin's balance than admit, perhaps...perhaps… 

He crosses his arms, strokes his beard and turns to the window. The Coruscant cityscape stretches before him, grey and disheveled. Even in direct sunlight, the landscape is ugly. It's an unbecomingly bitter thought for a Jedi Master; he is verging on _brooding_. He squashes the ghost of whatever Qui-Gon would say about the Living Force and allows himself to glower—just for a moment—at the planet at the centre of all he has sworn to protect. 

Plo touches his elbow. "Master Kenobi?"

"Hmm?" He shifts to face the other master and feels a stab of frustration that he can't see the man's eyes. Plo unsettles him at the best of times...because he was close to Qui-Gon, because he's _like_ Qui-Gon, because even in this darkness, Plo's kindness is unwavering. It flows from him in the Force, his deep baritone pitched to soothe and steady. Obi-Wan shirks away from it. He feels naked in Plo’s presence, and so he stares past his face at the smoking towers in the distance.

"Obi-Wan," Plo rumbles and squares his shoulders to fill more of his field of vision. He waits patiently until Obi-Wan blinks and lets the Kel Dooran master come into focus.

"It is her decision. I won't pressure her," he says, preemptively. Anakin will beg her and that's enough.

"Nor would I ask you to.”

“Then what?” he asks sharply. Plo doesn’t flinch.

“We should… talk,” Plo says gently. “I will set up some contacts for her. A former padawan of mine and, well, a few others. Jedi who left the Order, at the beginning.”

He doesn’t need to specify the beginning of _what_. 

“Is there anyone...?”

He’s shaking his head and turning away before he even knows what he’s doing. “No,” he answers automatically. It’s only half a truth. He has contacts outside the Order, from his own days before the war, some of them remnants of his life with Qui-Gon. But he cannot bear to think about what Ahsoka might be feeling right now, what she might need right now. 

In his bones, he knows nothing will really help. They already abandoned her. Betrayed her. There will be no coming back from this. 

They should have done better. He should have—

“We did what we could, Obi-Wan. Even on the Council, our powers are limited.”

A sharp spike of anger, breaking, cracking the wall of glass that he keeps between himself and his emotions. He freezes, lest the crack widen. He can’t speak, so he doesn’t. He needs to meditate.

“She is strong, and wise. She will make a life for herself outside the Order.”

Obi-Wan nods tightly and watches the broken line of speeders wind their way through the uneven highways. 

“The future is always in motion,” Obi-Wan deadpans, voice hollow.

“Indeed.” Plo sighs heavily and places his hand on Obi-Wan’s shoulder. It is meant to be comforting, but it feels like a dead weight. He rolls his shoulders instinctively. Still, Plo doesn’t let go. “ Perhaps, it is the will…”

Blood roars in his ears. He knows what Plo is about to say. Secretly, Obi-Wan has hated that phrase for thirteen years. He does not know if he will be able to contain his fury or his grief. 

He flees the council chamber.

***

Finding Anakin is as easy as breathing. His anger is shrieking in the Force, cutting through layers and levels of duracrete and stone. Obi-Wan pauses outside the salle, listening to the hiss-thwap of a lightsaber deflecting laser bolts. He almost feels sorry for the training droids.

He knows when Anakin gets like this, he won’t be able to quiet his mind or work on emotional control until he’s burned through some, if not all, of his energy. And right now, he feels like a supernova in the Force. 

He takes a deep breath, releasing his own sadness and anger to the Force, and emptying his mind. Whatever else is going on, they need Anakin if they are ever to end this blasted war. And so the best thing, the only thing, he can do, is what he’s done for the past thirteen years…. take care of his padawan. 

It was so much easier when he was a child. Obi-Wan could field his blows until he wore himself out. Or have instruct him to run the training course until he collapsed from exertion. A tired padawan doesn’t get into trouble, Qui-Gon would say, and then pause and give him a wink and half smile. Well, _less_ trouble. 

He scrubs his hand across his face, feeling the creases permanently carved on his once-youngling smooth brow and the scrape of creeping stubble and wild wiry hairs. There will never be enough time, he thinks with a weary pang of longing for his razor and his pillow.

He steps into salle with a sigh. Less trouble is indeed all he could ever hope for. 

“Don’t. Say. Anything,” Anakin growls. His gaze is brutal, but Obi-Wan doesn’t shrink from it. He has weathered the fiery ion storms of Anakin’s temper before. It hasn’t been so long since the Rako Hardeen debacle that he’s forgotten what it’s like to be on the receiving end of Anakin’s fury.

He blinks and nods in assent. Talking won’t do either of them any good anyway. He doesn’t even know what he would say. He ignites his lightsaber, ostentatiously lowers the power to training level. 

Anakin grimaces. “Fine,” he barks out, and adjusts his own weapon. And then he’s on Obi-Wan before he’s even settled into his opening stance. 

He is grateful for Soresu’s defensive strengths at times like these because Anakin’s blows are not thoughtful and measured and strategic. They are fast, vicious and unrelenting. He blocks and dodges and parries and blocks and then pulls out enough Ataru to vault over Anakin’s head and buy himself a second to breathe as the younger man whirls to face him. Anakin has power, like Qui-Gon, but Obi-Wan has speed and flexibility. His smaller frame sometimes has opponents underestimating him and he’s learned to use that to his advantage. He darts across the room and bounces on the balls of his feet while waiting for Anakin to reach him. Anakin runs at him with his saber and grunts in frustration as Obi-Wan easily deflects the attack. 

Anakin should know better, and he probably does, but he fights according to comfort and preference. He loves the power of Djem-So. And to be fair, Obi-Wan probably indulges him. He could end this duel in a few moves if he wanted to, put Anakin in his place. And as another overhand attack comes at him, he finds himself sorely tempted. Anakin is being sloppy. His anger makes him attack when it’s neither prudent nor useful to do so. This is what got him in trouble with Dooku, but Obi-Wan can’t think about that now as his saber locks blades with Anakin’s. Their opposing strengths drive the weapons into wheeling circle that he has to break with a Force push because he can feel Anakin’s superior strength start to win out. It always surprises him how Anakin can forget about Force moves in the middle of a fight. He’s always trying to get closer, closer, closer to his opponent. And Obi-Wan, well, he likes the distance, the space. There’s more room to move, more options….

THWACK

Until Anakin slams him against the wall and holds him there, of course. 

His former padawan stalks towards him, eyes blazing, saber raised and for a moment Obi-Wan is overwhelmed, he can’t breathe, he can’t move, he can’t block. He wriggles in vain, pinned like a firebeetle behind glass. 

Anakin’s eyes look far away as he tightens his fist and even more of the air in Obi-Wan’s lungs is squeezed out. 

The pressure on his chest is starting to hurt. This is _too much_ , even for Anakin. He should probably be afraid, but he isn’t. He is still the Master. It is inconceivable to him that Anakin would willingly harm him. 

Obi-Wan gathers the Force around him, and drinks it in, pushes against Anakin’s grip enough to take a breath. “Aaaanakin,” he chokes.

“This is _your_ fault,” Anakin growls, voice rough, as if he has been shouting. He probably has. He doesn’t want to know what his conversation with Ahsoka looked like. “Why didn’t you _help_ her?"

He should say _something_ , but he has no answer for Anakin. He can hardly tell him that he was trapped between the evidence against Ahsoka and his own foolhardy trust in _due process_. 

He hears the pain cracking Anakin’s voice and he is close enough now to see the glimmer of unshed tears. He can meet Anakin’s anger with calm deliberation, admonishment, saber practice, but his sadness is something else. He feels his guilt crash upon him like blow across the knees. Qui-Gon’s voice in his head says, “You should have known better. Didn’t you learn anything from watching me?” 

And oh, but isn’t Anakin thinking the same thing?

“Qui-Gon would never have…” Anakin begins. It’s a low blow, and they both know it. He imagines that the searing pain tearing through his insides must be what it’s like to be eviscerated. He slumps against the wall, held upright by Anakin’s Force grip. 

“I’m sorry, Anakin. I’m so sorry,” Obi-Wan whispers. Tears sting his eyes. He looks down at Anakin’s boots and breathes in the smell of sweat and leather. Anakin has rarely seen him cry and he doesn’t want to change that now.

“Look at me,” Anakin orders, and tilts Obi-Wan’s face up with his gloved hand. Rage and disappointment burn so brightly in his eyes that they look almost green. 

Anakin’s nostril’s flare as he inhales. His chest rises, broadens. Sometimes Obi-Wan is struck by just how large Anakin is. In his mind sometimes he’s still a little boy, or a scrawny teenager. But in reality, he has a massive frame and an inordinate amount of strength. Just like Qui-Gon.

He looms over Obi-Wan, narrows his eyes and leans in close enough that Obi-Wan can see a subtle twitch in his left eye and smell the sourness of his breath. His normally pleasant features look heavy, almost brutish.

“I don’t _care_ ,” he growls. 

And then Obi-Wan hits the ground. The impact sends shocks of pain through his tailbone and legs. Wind knocked out of him, chest heaving, he looks up. Anakin hasn’t moved. Jaw clenched, he glares down Obi-Wan with calculated menace. 

“Coward,” he sneers, and for a split second Obi-Wan half expects him to spit. But he doesn’t. He just turns on his heel and stalks away.

Obi-Wan sits there on the floor, losing time, until the training droid buzzes by and asks him if he needs assistance. 

“No,” Obi-Wan snaps. Before he can stop himself, he sends the droid crashing into the far wall with a flick of his left wrist. He flinches at the cold satisfaction that rushes through him.

They need to end this war, and soon. Before everything he knows is unrecognizable. 

Even himself.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Cry Little Jedi](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23459503) by [Darkflame1808](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Darkflame1808/pseuds/Darkflame1808)




End file.
